The Countess by Claire Delacroix Page B

once in while.
    But she was beyond marriageable years, and certainly not one for casual liaisons. ’Twould be a poor example for her daughters, and truly, she had not been raised herself with low moral standards.
    Nay, her daughters’ matches were her sole goal, their satisfaction would be her own. She told herself that twice, to no effect. Eglantine took a deep, shuddering breath and willed the tingle deep in her belly to silence.
    It ignored her, and heated like a coal on the smith’s forge.
    She could not be caught in the allure of a barbarian, not she. She could and would steel herself against the man’s rough appeal. She only had need of one night’s good sleep and she would have it this night.
    The problem of Duncan MacLaren settled, she set herself to organizing with terrifying efficiency.
    Esmeraude was Eglantine’s primary concern. The child had had her chance to mourn her papa, but now must come to terms with the way matters would remain. ’Twas true enough that Theobald should never have argued for Eglantine to leave the child to his influence alone—but she had been witless enough to agree.
    Now, the result was hers to repair and ’twould be best to see that remedy made soon. And she knew that she had erred in her approach this morning. She would have to begin again, begin more gently. Yet as Eglantine watched her daughter play with Célie, she knew she was not yet prepared for another battle of wills.
    Eglantine rubbed her brow, cursed the rain and wished with all her heart that something would turn in her favor.
    First, she would discuss the construction plans with Xavier, then she would oversee the meal which already began to tempt her nostrils. Once all were sated and calm, Esmeraude would be moved into Eglantine’s own tent. Célie, of course, would join them as well, though likely none of them would sleep this night.
    Perhaps on the morrow, or on the night after that.
    But ’twould be the beginning of the establishment of trust between mother and child. Sooner or later, Esmeraude would accept her circumstance and her mother. Eglantine knew she could outwait the child.
    She was the patient one, after all.
    â€™Twas no coincidence that ’twas Theobald who recognized her own ability to make the most of little. Eglantine sighed, wishing he had not left her quite so complete a challenge, then summoned a smile as she sought Xavier.
    Patience and perseverance would bring their own rewards.
    * * *
    Xavier was prepared to undertake his own feat of patience and perseverance in the building of their manor. He was excited about the site he had chosen and spoke with enthusiasm of the shelter from the wind to be had here, as well as the large stones already scattered around the site. He intended to add to their number with smaller rocks from the vicinity.
    Indeed, the boys aiding him had already assembled an impressive pile and even as the stocky man spoke to Eglantine, he fitted one or two smaller ones into place. ’Twas as though he could not bear to be parted from his project.
    His scheme was to make a floor of the stones, then a low wall that would rise to Eglantine’s hip or so. That stone wall would hold large logs upright every three strides. At the roofline, Xavier intended to build a frame with timber, then complete the walls with more stripped trees set vertically.
    Louis listened carefully, hands folded behind his back, his periodic questions incisive. Eglantine tried to envision the structure, so different from the stone or wattle-and-daub that she had known.
    Anything would be better than a tent. And a stone floor strewn with herbs had a strong appeal. ’Twould be a marvel to rise without dirt or mud underfoot.
    She spared a glance to the tower Duncan and his men had claimed and Xavier expressed his opinion that ’twould indeed make a defensible retreat. Louis contributed his research that such structures were evidently build with storerooms